It is a beautiful campus, though. Especially for someone who spent four years at college in New York City. The myth there was that "all of New York is your campus". True as it goes, I suppose, but who wants the stench of urine over most of your campus?
Hopkins feels like it's in New England somewhere. All those squarish red
brick buildings and white columns are straight out of the fantasy image of
"this is what college looks like". There is even the occasional patch of
wilted ivy climbing up the back of Shaffer Hall. Gilman Hall has a
weathervane for gosh sakes.
Greenery counts for a lot in my book. This place has honest-to-God trees, grass, and flowers. It is pretty easy to forget you are in Baltimore. Not that Baltimore is bad - it's pretty good, I think. Not really big enough to be a city, but far too big to be a town. Let's face it though: a green city, it ain't.
Popular myths notwithstanding, there is somewhat of a campus "life", if you are into that sort of thing. In 1997 there were finally more women admitted than men, so the traditional man:woman ratio isn't quite as sad as it once was. Of course, they're all freshmen (freshwomen?) so that helps me not at all. The computer science graduate program is still lingering in the dark ages of co-education. There seems to be a whole lot of the get-drunk and fall-down frat parties around here, which lacking the desire to vomit repeatedly, I have avoided like the plague. It isn't my music, it isn't my conversation, and hell, the women probably aren't Jewish anyway.
I tend to spend more time wandering in the lesser-trafficked places of Hopkins. There is a sculpture garden in the woods (such as they are), seemingly in the middle of nowhere, considering how many students actually visit it.
Hopkins at night is a strangely beautiful place. There is barely anyone about, and you can wander to your heart's content.
David Shaw <firstname.lastname@example.org>